02.04.06

It is with a heavy heart that I now speak of my continued desire, greed, if not insatiable instinctive hunger for pleasure and the good in life. That same greed which does not allow me to rest my soul, allow it not the concentration due to one task alone, but makes it waver, forever hungry for the bounty of something more. However, as life will have it, none of this can be a truth, for when I grasp with my forever withering hands, the new thing which I self promise will do me good, lift me from the evil I had done before and be the end and do all to my ill, that same moment that which has brought me pleasure via my imagination is now, for reasons unthinkable to me, dull, wilting, unfit, detestable. It is the new agony bringer, the new loathed action, the new one which with its claws freshly sharpened on my own contorted self-esteem, brings me down deeper than I had ever ventured before in the wild and unforgivable forest of gloom. The forest closes in around me, whispers emanate from the trees, lurching pains of guilt upon my stomach, pain me, suffocate me, allow me not to think, nor remember those truths which ten minutes before were golden set upon my mind for reformation in my future coming, and impale me with a dread of doing any further task, a dread I cannot explain, but one which merits the qualities of a thing that seeps all hope, happiness, and drains all self resolve and beforehand premonitions of my future. That fiend arisen in me, I slump forward in a chair, daring myself, pushing, in wish to overcome it, but it only grips me, pull me further into the depth of this hole of greed I have created for myself. And, alas, the only escapes comes with yet more do-nothingness. I wait, my life seeps before my eyes, then I have a jolt of happiness, unrestrained, after the many days passed in lieu misery of this grasp, I sit overjoyed upon a sunny day, wondering and pondering how my thought could have been led so badly astray, but then it grabs again. "Off, get you!", I scream, with hatred, one which I do mean, "Stay no further to me in these happy times"!, but yet it does not abide by my commands. Perhaps I had regained my grip and able to think only of how to compare these two paradoxes, one of gloom and happiness, but for only a moment before it seizes me and grabs. I am yet again in my hole dug for myself, but my own greed to oversee all aspects of any task, the minute details, them I wish connected with my gloating pride for that grand success, alas awaiting my insatiable greed of a heart. That same success which I dream of, is never realized, for in my attempts to reach it I unearth the little demons which "grasp, grasp, grasp" at me from under the paths of each in my wake. For goodness sake, there is no escape from this unless I let these thoughts, of these little things go free!